


cause i got you, and now that’s all that counts

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, F/M, Fluff and Angst, back porches, bro i'm talking bellarke in the countryside, countryside, tomato throwing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: Clarke gets dirt stuck under her nails, Bellamy always keeps books at hand, they are both a mess but somewhere between throwing tomatoes at each other and hiding, they fall in love.Or: Bellarke in the countryside.Prompt: Imagine Bellarke in Modern AU. With Sunday brunches on the back porch and whispered I love yous when no one else is listening.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a prompt fill for the lovely [Hazel](http://petrifiedpotter.tumblr.com) and turned into this. It is now 2:30 am and I regret nothing, writing this made me remember why I love writing so much, and if this fic is a color, I think it'd be a sunset kind of orange. I don't know why I just said that.
> 
> Also, I'm a city girl that would really like to be a country girl. Countryside is gorgeous, we should all migrate there!
> 
> The title is from Jetta's Feels Like Coming Home, which is a beautiful, beautiful song that will bring peace to your soul so please listen to it and then come scream with me about how Jetta is incredible.
> 
> Enjoy!

They start off as a storm. Bellamy is an earthquake, Clarke is sure. If people were natural disasters, he’d be the ground shaking beneath her feet, earth shattering, beautiful but deadly. 

And still, she loves him. Loves the same guy who made fun of her red boots she showed up to the town council meeting that first week. That’s what you do when you decide to leave a big city behind, move back to your grandparents’ farm, feed the chickens and get your hands dirty. 

“Well, if it isn’t the city princess,” he crows, leaned back in his chair, so self-assured with a smirk resting upon his face. His curls look like a crown and Clarke can’t help a blush.

Of course she sticks out like a sore thumb.

But she’s also an asshole so there is that.

“Someone has got to teach you peasants how to behave,” she shoots back, making him gape and everyone else laugh after a pause. Raven Reyes, the town mechanic, is the first one to clap her on her back and say that they are friends now. 

And Bellamy - well, Bellamy comes around eventually, when her car breaks down and she’s stranded by the side of the road with her phone battery drained, crates of tomatoes in the back of her grandpa’s run-down truck that works on will power alone. 

She’s just bemoaning leaving the city with all its commodities behind, hands gripping the steering wheel and tears dropping into her lap, when Bellamy knocks on the window and startles her.

“You need help, Princess?”

“Not from you.” It even  _sounds_  weak so Bellamy chuckles, leans on the roof of the truck, looking like if he has no intention of leaving. “Go on, get out of here! Go mock someone else!”

His brow furrows in part-confusion, part-offense. “You think I’m mocking you?”

“Oh, and you’re shocked?” 

A beat of silence, nothing but crickets chirping. Summer is going to come soon, Clarke knows. The country shows you that with grass getting greener, sun scorching your skin, crickets and grandmas busting out their best iced tea recipes. 

She loves it so much. It’s even worth tolerating assholes for it.

But Bellamy stays silent, just leaning on her truck with a deeply puzzled look in his eyes. This close, she can see his freckles, even in the dusk, can see the scar above his upper lip, how he makes this whole town feel like it’s bigger than it actually is.

How he seems like a fallen star that accidentally stumbled upon Earth and decided to stay there.

(She doesn’t think about dog adoption programmes he organizes. Doesn’t think about how she runs into him in the library, when he’s reading greek myths to kids, doesn’t think about how that makes her smile. Doesn’t do that. Not at all.)

“Blake, you alright?” she asks at last, rolling her window down. He doesn’t move for another second and then he spins into motion, crouching so his chin is on level with the window.

“I’m really sorry, you know? You didn’t deserve all the shit I gave you.”

It punches the breath out of her lungs and she’s still not sure if he’s teasing her, never can be with Bellamy Blake - as soft as a pillow in the morning and then as rough as the sandpaper she used to fix her grandparents’ back porch. 

He’s a paradox.

And she’s still an asshole so she gets out of the truck, reaches into the crate in the back and throws a tomato at him, red stain blooming on his thigh as he stares on in shock.

“That’s for being a dick.”

Another tomato. At least it’s a rotten one and Clarke regrets nothing. If anything, it makes her blood boil in a good way, makes her feel alive when she starts chasing him around the truck like she’s fifteen again and suddenly they’re laughing, laughing - 

Ttheir laughter rises high into the air, echoes across the fields and they’re sitting in the dust at the side of her car, nothing but silence and the two of them.

“Friends?” he offers finally, and Clarke shakes his hand.

“We can try.”

 

*

 

He helps her get buyers for her grandparents’ fresh produce and she finds out that he’s a bartender, a librarian and a history teacher.

“Why?” she asks, leaning on the bar with her whiskey sour that he plopped an umbrella into, just for the kicks.

Bellamy smiles quizzically, like he does most of the time, but just shrugs. “I like working.”

It’s Octavia, his younger sister, that tells Clarke why.

“We grew up poor. Bell was the one who had to work, who had to take care of me, especially after our mom died. And now that things are good, well - I don’t think he  _gets_  that they are.”

Clarke lets it be, doesn’t give him shit for it, but always drops by the bar when she knows he’s had a long day in school and could probably use a friend. She could use one, too, even though she has Raven and Monty and Jasper, all of whom she loves, but - 

Bellamy is Bellamy. 

For a reason she can’t understand, there’s something about the way he seems to deeply understand when she tells him that nothing was working back home, that even her art seemed like a dark pit of despair, that she had to leave.

“And I know it’s such a first world problem, I know, but I was fucking miserable.”

Bellamy smiles at her, the two of them stealing a corner of the bar for themselves when Gina takes the shift over, and he covers her hand with his, calloused palm and a soft smile.

(He keeps those for his friends only. Clarke tries to ignore how it makes her heart flip. Fails.)

“I get it. It’s okay, I’d have felt the same, probably. But countryside is all I know. I’d love to see the world but this is home.”

“One day.”

He nods, ducks his head to hide a smile. “Yeah, one day.”

Clarke keeps working, keeps getting dirt stuck underneath her fingernails and a smile etched on her face. Her grandma makes toast with fresh tomatoes for breakfast, her grandpa keeps moaning about the weather, and she spends the whole day out in the field.

It’s good, it’s so good that she can’t help talking about it, feeling like the typical city princess that she just might be.

“But you’re really not, Clarke,” Bellamy laughs, wrapping his lips around a beer bottle. Even her grandparents know and love him. (”What a nice boy.” “He is thirty, Gramps.” Clarke’s grandma glares. “What a nice  _boy_.”)

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t cut your hair in months, you can only ever talk about what needs to be dealt with around the farm, you wear nothing but boots, and you’ve got that glow about you.”

She pauses at the word ‘glow’ and crooks an eyebrow at him. “A  _glow_ , huh?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, his muscles flexing as he stands up to get them more beer. His flannel has seen better days but Clarke still loves seeing it on him. “You know what I meant, stop being obnoxious.”

“No, I don’t think I know. Tell me more about this glow you see.”

She keeps teasing him and he keeps resisting until he finally caves in, drops an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in, uncaring of the world around them. They’re both tipsy at that point, eyes hazy and sloppy smiles when they look at each other.

(Clarke remembers in details, like - he keeps pocket-sized books in his old messenger bag. Talks about how reading a book means living another life.

“So you’re old as balls, huh, Bellamy?”)

“I mean, you’re happy, that’s the glow. You’re just happier than you were.”

Clarke thinks about it, her stomach not coiling for the first time. It feels right, how simple her life is right now. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true.”

And who can blame her for bringing her lips to his when he’s walking her home, propped up on her toes and with her fingers coiled in his shirt. For a second, she thinks he’s not going to kiss her back and the lights are turning from yellow to just pitch black, her heart skipping a beat and then another and - 

And then he pulls her in, kisses her harder, almost dirty with desperation and passion, and the world is right.

After, he looks shy.

After, she is brave.

“I missed not doing this,” she whispers into the skin of his neck, plants a butterfly kiss there. His hands are on her hips and she feels at home, impossibly. She didn’t grow up there, on that street, but it feels like a memory lane. She should have fallen in love with Bellamy Blake when she was fifteen, married him at twenty, lived a whole another life. A perfect one. 

“Yeah, Clarke,” his voice is muffled by her hair and he kisses her forehead, gentle, “me, too.”

 

*

 

They hide around because they don’t know how to explain it, the sloppy truck makeouts, seeking out spots no one is going to find them in. It feels precious, what they’ve got, with oldies playing on the radio and driving out into the fields to watch the stars burn.

“That’s Polaris,” he points at the sky, glistening spots in the endless blue. “And that’s Little Dipper.”

Clarke looks at him.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Bellamy hums, lets her bury her head in his chest, his voice washing over her like waves on California shore. That was a peace of a kind. This is a whole different one. 

(She loves it all the same.)

Raven calls her out on her ‘heart eyes’.

“Just tell him.”

“Yeah, no. He’s such a nerd.”

“But you’re in love with that nerd.”

“Like he’d have me.”

And she is afraid of that, really is. They’re from two different worlds. Bellamy is kind and patient and cares about this town, wants to make Arkadia better. Clarke is a newbie and she still feels like she’s done too many bad things to actually get to be happy again.

So she doesn’t ask him what they are and instead, they sit on her back porch when her grandparents are asleep, and they tell each other stories.

“I nearly had a car crash when I was thirteen.” Bellamy’s voice sounds like he’s laughing but something in Clarke scratches at her chest. God, he could have been missing from this. She could have been missing him all her life, without even knowing. The world could have not had Bellamy Blake to make it better. “I couldn’t drive and Octavia broke her arm so I had to get her to the hospital. I drove ten miles per hour and my mom nearly killed me when she found out.”

“I broke my arm when I was five, I fell off a tree.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

“I’ve always wanted to make art that would make people feel understood, like they’re not alone.”

They smile at each other whenever a new piece of information slips out, and Clarke wonders whether Bellamy feels the same, like the other is a treasure chest and this gold feels too precious to be touched by dirty fingers.

But it’s not all sunshine. They still fight in town council meetings, Clarke is still tired and Bellamy is still overworked. It’s hard but Clarke never wants to quit, always tells him that she hates him but drops her phone out of sheer excitement when he finally calls, breathes out a “Are you sorry? Because I’m sorry.”

It’s easy, living in Arkadia, and Clarke is always stunned by just how much. Monty brings moonshine to their Sunday brunches, Raven’s hands are covered in grease, Jasper keeps his goggles on, Bellamy reads passages from books out loud and Clarke just soaks it in. In the height of the summer, her feet are on the fence, condensation from her beer bottle is sliding down her fingertips and her eyes are closed because the world is a lot.

But it’s good.

“Let’s get the dishes,” Raven says. Clarke figures she gets Monty and Jasper to help, too, because a plate gets broken, followed by a stream of cursing in both Spanish and English. 

And because she feels a hand on the bare strip of her skin, just above her shorts, Bellamy impossibly close, close enough for his curls to tickle her cheek, making her smile again.

“Hey,” she whispers, winds a hand into his hair, pulls him in closer until he’s kissing her and she couldn’t care less if anyone sees. She’s got this, they’ve got this.

Bellamy smiles into her shoulder when they’re in the kitchen, just a moment after her grandpa’s left. “We could go on a trip. Just you and I.”

“I’d love that.”

She doesn’t think she fully understands him, but she’s willing to try.

 

*

 

The trip is a fiasco and this is how she knows that he is an earthquake. Because the motel lights are neon red, casted on his face, and he’s shaking his head with an expression she can’t decipher.

It started out stupid, a fight about where they’re going to get dinner, and now she’s screaming at him that he’s so indecisive, can’t even decide if he wants to be with her or not.

“I’m not the one who is ashamed,” he shoots back, but there’s no heat. There’s just hurt and now, now she knows what his expression is. It’s hurt that he’s tried to mask but failed. Now she sees it and fuck, her heart is being ripped apart.

“Ashamed? Bellamy, what - “

He raises a hand to stop her, shakes his head again and gets his car keys. “It’s fine, Clarke. This is a vacation to you, right? It’s me who is trying to get something he can’t.”

And that’s the thing about him - he can’t believe in good things happening. Clarke knows why she can’t, because she didn’t deserve them. But if anyone did, Bellamy did.

She lets him leave because she is too weak for this, too weak and too haunted by how he’d kissed her just an hour ago, laced their fingers together, took off her shirt and mapped every inch of her skin with his lips.

Clarke lets Bellamy leave because, even when she’s murmuring  _I love you_ s into his shoulder as he sleeps, she still doesn’t feel worthy of saying it out loud when it really counts.

 

*

 

When she is seventeen, Clarke’s father dies and she doesn’t make it to the hospital in time to say goodbye. Half-whispered words and promises stick to the tip of her tongue and all that’s left there is weight.

(It’s not her fault, she knows. It still feels like it is.)

When she is twenty, the boy Clarke loves, Finn, dies in a car accident. They find a phone in his hand, pressing the call button below her name. They had been fighting.

(It’s not her fault, she knows. It still feels like it is.)

When she is twenty five, Clarke falls in love with a girl who has the brilliance of the moon. Lexa makes her want to be better, Lexa makes her want to be worthy of her love.

Lexa dies, stepping in front of a bullet meant for Clarke.

(It’s not her fault, she knows. It still feels like it is.)

 

*

 

The cows get milked anyway. Clarke brings the buckets to the house, thinking about what Bellamy would say. Probably something like - “At least your guns are looking good. You know I like my women strong enough to kick my ass.”

The buyers get contacted anyway. Clarke laughs with Vera Kane and ignores the icicles in her stomach when the woman asks her about Bellamy. “Will we be seeing him at the fair this fall?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m sorry. But you will be seeing the Griffin farm.”

Life goes on and yet, Clarke is sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor when her grandma finds her, kneels and takes her face in her hands.

“Didn’t you come here to be happy, Clarkey?”

Clarke chokes on a sob, nods. “Yeah.”

“So what are you doing here? What are you doing, if you’re miserable without Bellamy?”

“You know?”

Her grandma laughs. “The whole town knows. He loves you so much.”

“Well, I’m shit at being loved.”

Her grandma has a cross-stitched sign on the wall - “Language!” and a swear jar by the kitchen utensils. This time, she lets Clarke be.

“So try again. Go get the boy.”

She’s only got her jacket and boots on when she storms into the bar, makes everyone stop and stare as Bellamy ushers her through the back door into the parking lot. His arms are crossed at his chest, a storm brewing in his eyes. It’s a very tired storm and she knows how he feels.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry and it’s not enough because I’m shit at this - I’m not - I’m not worth it, okay? You’ll wake up and you’ll see that there are better people you could be in love with, not me. But I’m still selfish and I still want to be happy.”

Bellamy always looks at her like he really sees her, and that’s what she loved so much. Even when he hated her, he could see her, past the fog and past the blur. Like he knows what’s really inside her body. What is the one word she can’t pronounce but makes up the essence of who she is.

“I love you and I want you to be happy but fuck, Bellamy, I want you to be happy  _with me_.” She slams her foot on the pavement, hair getting into her mouth as he stays silent, his hands dropping to his sides.

Finally - “Say that again.”

“I want you to be happy with me, even though I would be happy even if - “

“No, not that. What you said before.”

Her heart stutters. “I love you. That’s - you  _had_  to know.” 

Bellamy shakes his head, the corners of his lips pulling up in a smile. “No, I didn’t know you loved me.”

And Clarke gets it now, gets why he’s just a mess of different concepts in her head - he’s the first day of spring and warm hearths and woods surrounding Arkadia and fields and how he smiles when a kid asks him a question and when a patron gets home safe with someone they love and - 

He’s everything.

It’s just because Bellamy Blake is  _everything_.

“I do, Bellamy. I do love you and I’m sorry you didn’t know because I’m a dick, but - “

He laughs his way into kissing her, embracing her like he’s missed this, and the bubble of joy in her chest explodes, pours over her heart, wraps her up like he does - makes her feel like this is it, this is all she wants out of life, for Bellamy to kiss her like he means it, no reservations, nothing but this.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into his cheek, planting another kiss on his lips. They’re red and swollen and she’s proud - she, Clarke, did this. 

“I love you, too. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

That stay like that for what seems like ages, just wrapped up in each other. Because, at the end of the day, they could fight and they could rip each other apart, crescent moons in the palms of Clarke’s hands, but all they’ve got, all they’ve ever had is -

_I care._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! I was seriously worried I was losing my mojo since my classes started but I am back!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! If you liked it, I would really appreciate you letting me know - kudos & comments are a great way to do that! 
> 
> This is the tidbit part, right? Well, I imagined Clarke's grandma to be the kind of old lady that is super lovely but isn't afraid to deck a bitch (preferrably with a curtain pole). Also, I really love the countryside, I love getting my hands dirty, so this was really self-inserty in a way.
> 
> (no, Bethany, this is not about tomato boy, tomatoes are just accidental here bc i love them)
> 
> The title is in lowercase because I'm feeling it way more than properly capitalizing words. I'm not a regular fic writer, I'm a ~cool fic writer. (i'm sorry i'm like this)
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for all the angst, but thank you so much for reading! I love you all and I am so, so happy you guys are here! Thank you! <333
> 
> p.s. come talk to me on [tumblr](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com)!


End file.
